


Bury Your Soul

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [30]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossroads Deals, Demon!Sterek, Demon!Stiles, F/M, M/M, demon!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have been at this for quite a while-- long enough not to be considered rookies, at any rate. Of course, then they go and make a rookie mistake.</p><p>It's all uphill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury Your Soul

_ 1849 _

_No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening._

But it was; Derek could see the fire burning in his sister's eyes, more brightly than the fire currently consuming their house thanks to the tears that refused to fall-- the house they'd helped their parents build, big enough for their family to grow even more. But it was all burning to ash thanks to Derek's mistake. Kate had told him, she'd warned him, but he hadn't listened, had thought she wouldn't go through with it... But she had.

All for a handful of gold nuggets.

Derek and Laura ran. They didn't want to deal with being pitied by their community, and they didn't have anything holding them in California anymore. But in St. Louis, Derek heard of a way to fix his mistake. It'd mean dooming himself, but he didn't care. If it meant he could have his family back, if it meant that _Laura_ could have her family back... He'd do it.

So he traveled to the nearest crossroads, the box prepared. He buried it in the middle of the crossroads and waited. He didn't have to wait long; a voice came from behind him, smooth yet dangerous. "Well, well, well; you're certainly a fine piece of work."

Derek whirled to face the man, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're the one they told me about, the one who can help me?"

The man tilted his head, a smirk on his lips and his eyes flashing an unnatural red. "I can, yes," he said. "What do you need help with, boy?"

"My family," Derek said. "They all-- it was my fault. They burned, and it was my fault and I want them back, for me and my sister."

"So you would rather burn in their place," the man mused. "I can offer you a deal-- I can bring them all back, and give you and your sister the money to go back to California. In return, in ten years, I get your soul for the rest of time."

Derek swallowed. "Can you make it so no one remembers what I did? With Kate, and this? No one but me."

"I can," the demon allowed. "But that means I collect your soul in five years, not ten. In return, no one but you will remember what happened; for them, it'll be like you all took a nice little family vacation."

Derek didn't have to think about it. "Deal."

"Deal," the demon echoed, stepping forward and hauling Derek into a hard kiss. "See you in five years." With that, he was gone in a plume of smoke.

When Derek got back to the inn where he and his sister were staying, he found their entire family waiting for him. And for five years, he prepared. He made as many good memories as he could, spent as much time with everyone as he could. When his last day came, he slipped away into the woods, and didn't run. He'd had five years, and his family would live for a lot longer. He was going to honor his deal.

* * *

The first day on the rack was long and hard for Derek, as it was for everyone. Stiles knew his name because he'd heard the demon assigned to him snarling it while he went about his work. That was about all he'd caught before Stiles' own demon had arrived to start the party. Even Stiles found it difficult to eavesdrop when his flesh was being rendered from his bones.

Still, when the day was over and they'd been left alone to recuperate for the next, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. "So," he began, his voice echoing through the darkness. "Is it anything like what you expected?"

Derek, breathing heavy, glanced over to the boy beside him, grimacing as his flesh regrew. "Better than knowing I killed my family," he grunted.

Stiles laughed. "That's what you're in for?" he asked. "You killed your family?"

"Brought them back, gave my soul for them not to remember what I did," Derek clarified. "Got five years with them."

"Well that's not as exciting," Stiles complained. "It's Derek, right?"

"Right. What're you here for?" Derek asked. "You sound like a foreigner. What's your name?"

Stiles smirked, though he knew that Derek couldn't see him. "I'm Searbhreathach," he answered. "And we're all foreign down here. I'm from Ireland, originally. Here for much the same reason that you are."

"Huh. So did you have sex with an older woman who killed your family for gold, too?" Derek asked sarcastically.

 _Jesus_. Stiles winced. "Not so much," he answered. "Never mind."

"No, c'mon; I told you, so you tell me," Derek wheedled.

"Fair trade isn't exactly how things work down here, if you hadn't already worked that out," Stiles pointed out. "But, okay. I traded my soul for the lives of my family, too."

"What happened to them?" Derek asked curiously, unbothered by Searbhreathach's first sentence.

"That is none of your business," Stiles answered cheerfully.

Derek rolled his eyes, and fell quiet.

* * *

Paradoxically, the years passed both quickly and slowly-- on the surface, one single year passed while 120 passed in the Pit. Of course, Derek didn't last that long; he broke shortly after Searbhreathach did, barely six months after he'd arrived in the Pit. Each morning, the demons torturing them had offered them a choice: Take up the tools themselves, or the torture continued. Derek resisted for as long as he could, but eventually it just got to be too much for him and he broke; he'd do anything to get the pain to stop.

(That was only partly true; the other thing was Searbhreathach had broken a few years before him, and they'd become sort of friends during their time spent side by side on their racks, and both of them hated the fact that the demons had first assigned Searbhreathach to torture Derek. Derek didn't last long, which was probably anticipated by whoever was in charge.)

As they started learning the tools of the trade, Derek and Searbhreathach started competing, seeing who could get the most screams, the longest-lasting wounds. When they started being allowed topside, taking their own places as crossroads demons, they started competing for souls. This continued for about a century, until one day about a decade into the twenty-first century.

On January 23, 2011, they were called topside at almost the exact same time; Derek could feel Searbhreathach's presence a few miles away, and wondered who'd summoned him. Before Derek was a young man with a crooked jaw-- he looked Hispanic, and rather like an overgrown puppy, if Derek was honest. Derek's eyes bled red as the scent of the man was carried to him on the breeze-- werewolf. And not just _any_ werewolf: an alpha. True Alpha, if Derek wasn't mistaken.

"First time I've been summoned by a 'wolf," Derek mused. "Usually it's just humans who know about us."

"I learned about you from a human," the wolf answered. "My name is Scott McCall, and I want you to save my mate and make her invulnerable to all future harm, allowing her to live out a natural life span that will not end because of any wound she may incur."

Well, it was specific, Derek had to give him that. He mulled it over for a moment. "Very well. I assume you know the cost?"

Scott nodded. "In ten years, you send hellhounds after me and take my soul to the Pit."

"So, do we have a deal?"

"We do."

* * *

On the other side of town, Stiles had been summoned by a young girl with strawberry blonde hair and a scowl that would leave him quaking in his boots if he wasn't a demon. "Oh no," he laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no, no, _no_. You're way too pretty to get yourself into this kind of trouble." He paused, considering. "And too smart."

"Keep the comments to yourself and do your job," the girl snapped.

Again, Stiles laughed. "Okay, okay. What can I do for you, Lydia?"

The girl was surprised, but she didn't look happy about it. "How do you know my name?"

"I know all kinds of things," Stiles said smugly. "Like... your boyfriend is in some kind of trouble right now. Is he dying?" A muscle in Lydia's eye twitched, and Stiles gasped. "Is he _dead_?"

"Fix it," Lydia demanded.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked. "He's been nothing but trouble for you in the past. One little slip in his psychological state and oops, he's a kanima again, and he could be lost to you forever. I know he hurt some of your friends the first time. Is he really worth selling your soul for?"

Lydia balled her hands into fists at her sides. "I'm willing to bet that your boss wouldn't be happy if you talked me out of this deal," she snarled. "So shut your mouth and _fix it_."

Stiles inclined his head. "You understand the Ts and Cs? I give you what you want, and in ten years I have your soul ripped violently and painfully from your body and sent straight down to the Pit?"

Lydia nodded.

"Then we have a deal." Stiles smirked. "I'm guessing that you also know how we seal the deal?"

Again, Lydia nodded, looking determined, and Stiles stepped forward to press his mouth to hers. He slipped her a little tongue just for the hell of it, but was gone before she had the chance to slap him for the presumption.

And that was that.

* * *

Or so they thought.

Turned out, both Lydia and Scott started digging, searching for ways out of their deals; when the news reached Derek and Searbhreathach, they met with the boss of all crossroads demons, Crowley, to figure out what to do. In the end, Crowley sent them topside to keep an eye on the two dealers and keep them from weaseling out of the deal. Derek found himself a nice meatsuit that had been recently vacated in Indiana-- male, very attractive. He made his way to Beacon Hills and waited for Searbhreathach to catch up.

Stiles had always liked a challenge, and found himself a twink of a spark who had bitten off more than he could chew. By the time Stiles had fought the nogitsune out of the body there was nothing of the boy left, which was a shame but not terrible. It just meant that he was alone with his own thoughts on the journey to Beacon Hills.

It wasn't difficult to find Derek. He had a very specific type when it came to choosing his meatsuits, and the way that people were looking at him as he stood in the middle of the woefully small town mall told Stiles that they hadn't been subjected to this particular level of beauty before. Laughing to himself, Stiles snuck up behind Derek and groped his ass. "I'm awfully sorry, but I seem to have lost my underwear. Can I see yours?"

Derek rolled his eyes, slapping Searbhreathach's hand away. "Knock it off, Sear," he said mildly. "We've got a job to do, remember?"

Stiles pouted. "How did you know it was me?" he demanded. 

Derek raised one eyebrow, turning to look at the other demon. "Because I can feel your energy," he said simply. "Also everyone else in this forsaken town has been ogling me from afar and no one's come within fifteen feet of me."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Well that's boring," he complained. "This is going to be boring, isn't it?"

"Probably," Derek agreed. "Come on; we need to find those two idiots. They're probably at the local high school."

Stiles gave Derek a pointed look. "And what?" he asked. "Barge up to them and say, 'Hey, assholes, quit trying to get out of your deals'? We need a story." He dropped the backpack he was carrying off of his shoulder and dug around inside of it before pulling out a thick brown envelope and handing it over. "Luckily for you, I took care of everything on my way here."

"I don't see why we can't," Derek complained. "But fine. Lemme see what you've got."

"There's a couple of IDs in there," Stiles explained. "And some high school transcripts for me, an employment history for you - you have a degree in sociology, congratulations. I also wrote your resumé, because if we're going to be here for a while you should probably get a job. I used our given first names but obviously I changed the surnames. Officially, I'm your ward."

Derek rifled through the documents, giving them a cursory once-over. "Sounds fun," he said dryly before handing Stiles his stuff and tucking his own into his pocket. "Okay then genius, what do you suggest we do first?"

"I think we should go to the school," Stiles answered, smiling smugly. "But not to harass the life out of those kids. We're going to enrol me in their class."

"So you can have all the fun, and I get the boring human life?" Derek asked incredulously. "Dammit, I knew I should've gone with a younger meatsuit."

Stiles smirked, giving the meatsuit in question a slow and appreciative once-over. "Something tells me you won't be bored."

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to get Searbhreathach Smith enrolled at the school. Stiles had made sure that he had excellent grades, so they couldn't really turn him away. The only problem was his first name, which Stiles had to spell out three times to the receptionist trying to get him entered into the system. Poor thing.

He and Derek met up with the principal for a second time once everything was finalised, the man shaking first Derek's and then Stiles' hands. "I hope you'll be very happy here, Sarv..." He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. "Sear..."

"Searbhreathach," Stiles corrected, laughing. "I know, I know, it's a monstrosity. Just call me Stiles, okay?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You never told me that," he commented.

The principal raised his eyebrows, and Stiles forced a smile. "He thinks he's funny," he said. "So I start on Monday?"

They were there for another twenty minutes while the principal tried to cajole his secretary into printing out Stiles' timetable, but as soon as they were clear of the school, Stiles smacked Derek upside the head. "I've never told you that before?" he hissed. "You're supposed to be my guardian and I've never told you my name? Think, Derek."

Derek glowered at Searbhreathach-- _Stiles_ , apparently-- and cuffed him upside the head in retaliation. "You haven't," he said hotly. "You never told me your nickname."

"You never asked!" Stiles said, grinning. "Besides, it was too much fun watching you trip all over yourself trying to say the real thing."

"Fuck you," Derek shot back automatically. "Come on. If we're going to be living here for who-knows-how-long, we need a decent place to stay."

"I'll let you handle that," Stiles answered. "You're the adult."

"One of us has to be," Derek muttered.

* * *

'Somewhere decent' turned out to be a loft that had next to no furniture in it. A fucking loft. It would be okay, except that Derek refused to let Stiles buy more than the bare minimum, which amounted to beds and a sofa. Not even a microwave - _Demons don't need to eat, dumbass_. Stiles was not happy, but Derek argued that they weren't here to get comfortable; they were here to do a job. Stiles privately thought that Derek was just punishing him for the name thing.

Still, he bought himself a laptop, and by the time Monday rolled around he had thoroughly Facebook stalked both Scott and Lydia, and all of their little friends, and he had a plan. He made sure that he sat next to Scott in the first class they shared together, English, and when the teacher finally shut up he gave him a nudge. "Hey man, I don't suppose you know if the lacrosse team has any vacancies?" he whispered.

Scott glanced over; it was the new kid. He nodded. "Yeah, we've got room for a new member if you're interested," he whispered back.

Stiles grinned. "I'm _very_ interested," he promised. "So you're on the team?"

Scott nodded. "Co-captain," he answered, repressing a shudder at the thought that he'd almost become _sole_ captain.

"Sweet," Stiles said, grinning. "I promise I'm good. I used to play at my old school."

"Awesome," Scott said happily, then jerked guiltily when the teacher snapped at them to pay attention.

As it turned out, Stiles had just about every class with Scott, except for a couple of AP classes. By the time lunch rolled around, Scott was a bit torn between inviting Stiles to sit with them and continuing planning with Lydia for how to get themselves out of the deals they'd made. In the end, he decided that it couldn't hurt to be nice to the new kid, and invited him to sit with the pack for lunch.

Stiles accepted gracefully and followed Scott over to the pack's table, lunch tray in hand. He'd had a few classes with Lydia today as well, the AP ones, and she greeted him with a curt nod when he sat down next to her; the seats on either side of Scott were already taken by his girlfriend and a boy with curly hair.

It was this boy who spoke first. "You the new kid?"

"No shit," Stiles said, grinning. "I'm Stiles."

"Isaac," the boy returned. "And Allison, Jackson, Boyd and Erica. I'm guessing you already know Lydia." Stiles nodded.

The blonde girl Stiles had already known to be Erica leaned forwards, her impressive cleavage on display. Stiles also knew that Boyd was her boyfriend, and very pointedly kept his eyes on her face. "What kind of a name is Stiles?" she asked.

Stiles laughed. "It's short for Searbhreathach."

Erica's eyes widened. "Sar-what?"

"Exactly."

"Stiles is interested in joining the lacrosse team," Scott chimed in; he noticed Isaac was looking at Stiles a bit oddly, but didn't comment on it out loud; he did, however, send Isaac a text. **What's up?**

Stiles was being quizzed by Jackson on his experience with lacrosse, but he wasn't unaware of the exchange passing between Isaac and Scott.

 **Can't you smell the sulfur?** Isaac sent back. **He's a demon.**

Scott raised an eyebrow at Isaac. **Sulfur? You're positive?**

**Yes**

Scott mulled that over throughout lunch, and about midway through he asked innocently, "Does anyone else smell something odd?"

 _Shit_. Stiles knew exactly what Scott could smell, and while everyone else started to sniff he looked about desperately for a way out of this. Thankfully, he found one. "Well, that girl's egg sandwich is pretty ripe," he said casually, gesturing to the student sitting just behind Allison.

Scott glanced at the girl Stiles indicated, then back to Isaac, who didn't look as sure as he had earlier. "Yeah, I guess that's it," Scott agreed.

Stiles breathed a soft sigh of relief and made a mental note to buy some cologne.

* * *

Things went pretty smoothly after that for about two weeks. Then the full moon happened, and Derek finally found out _why_ any little injuries had been healing quicker than usual. His meatsuit was a fucking werewolf.

He managed to keep his head long enough to teleport _way_ out of town; he could wrangle this under control, but it was going to be unpleasant.

When the full moon was over, he went back to the loft and found Stiles asleep on the couch; he kicked the back of the couch hard enough to tilt it so that Stiles fell out of it. "Get up," he snapped, irritated.

"Wha-huh?" Stiles asked eloquently, opening one eye to peer blearily up at Derek. "What is it?"

"This fucking meatsuit's a wolf," Derek growled, throwing himself into the armchair. "Took me most of last night to wrestle it back under control."

Stiles sat up instantly. "A werewolf? Cool!"

"No, it's fucking use-- _ful._ It's useful," Derek realized. "This is perfect; gives us an excuse to get closer to the pack!"

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "What do you suggest? That I tell them my _guardian_ got bit and we need their help?" His eyes widened suddenly. "Hey!"

"Exactly!" Derek said, grinning. "Maybe this body'll be good for something after all."

* * *

The next day, Stiles wasted no time in cornering Scott. "We need to talk," he said lowly, crowding in close to the kid as he searched through his locker.

Scott could hear the urgency in Stiles's heartbeat, so he nodded. "Meet me in the locker room after practice," he decided. "Won't be able to get alone until then."

Stiles sighed, but nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

Scott hung around the locker room after practice, waiting until everyone was gone; once it was clear, Stiles entered. "What's up?" Scott asked.

"I know you're a werewolf," Stiles said, without preamble. "And I need your help."

Scott raised one eyebrow. "What do you need help with?"

"Derek, the-- the guy I live with, he got bit on the last full moon."

"And turned?" Scott asked sharply.

Stiles nodded. "He has no idea what he's doing."

cott remembered that feeling all too well. "All right. Do you want to meet in the Preserve, or do you want to meet somewhere else? I'll talk with him."

"He's kind of just holed up at our place," Stiles said. "He doesn't want to leave in case he loses control and hurts someone." He would have to text Derek, tell him to really ham it up if Scott agreed to come over, but it would be better to play on Scott's sympathies from the start.

Scott nodded understandingly, then a thought hit him. "How did you know I'm one?" he asked, a little suspiciously.

"Derek could smell you on me," Stiles answered readily. "It had to be you, because none of the others are what you'd call touchy-feely, although I'm guessing at least some of them are werewolves, too. Would you call it a pack?"

That wasn't a lie... "Yes, we're a pack," Scott answered. "Me, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson are 'wolves."

"Cool," Stiles said, nodding. "Do the others know, too?"

"They're also part of the pack, so yes," Scott answered. 

Again, Stiles nodded. "Don't worry, we're not looking to join your pack or anything," he said, and this time he let his heartbeat skip over the lie. "We're happy to go it alone. But we're gonna need some guidance."

Scott didn't comment on the break in Stiles's heartbeat, but nodded nonetheless. "All right. I'll come over this evening, if that's okay?"

"Thank you," Stiles said, as sincerely as he could manage.

Scott grinned. "No problem."

* * *

Stiles just had time to relay the conversation to Derek before Scott knocked on the door, and Stiles hurried to answer it. "Hey," he said warmly, allowing Scott to come inside. "Thanks for coming. He almost bit the postman on the ass today."

"I _growled_ at him," Derek said, cuffing Stiles across the back of the head. "I didn't 'almost bite' him."

"Down boy," Stiles said, smirking.

"I will, however, bite you if you don't knock it off," Derek threatened, careful to make sure the ice-blue of the wolf's eyes flashed instead of the red of the demon's.

"Okay," Scott broke in, shoving his way between them and flashing his own eyes at Derek, who bared his teeth, "let's move away from the open door, shall we?"

Stiles shrugged and pushed the door shut. "Now what?"

"Now, Derek and I need to get to know each other so that Derek's wolf will trust me."

Derek frowned. "You're talking like it's a separate entity."

"It kind of is," Scott answered. "It's a part of you, but it has instincts of its own. Right now, I'm sure you're not very happy to have me here for a reason you can't quit pin down, right?"

"I--" Actually, he was right. "You're right," Derek said, confused. How had he known that?

Scott nodded. "I'm a strange wolf-- and an alpha no less-- and this is your territory; or at least, that's what your wolf thinks, anyway. It's probably feeling a bit intimidated."

"So, should I get out of here?" Stiles asked. "Or can I help?"

"Well--"

"He stays," Derek said firmly, surprising all three of them; he wasn't about to contradict himself though.

Stiles' eyes widened slightly, but other than that he didn't show his surprise. He just sat down on the sofa and rubbed his hands together. "So, what's first?"

"Well, usually the first step is finding an anchor, something to tether your powers to, to give you more control, but I think you've already got that, Derek," Scott said with a meaningful look between him and Stiles.

Derek was tempted to snort, but remembered at the last second that he was supposed to like Stiles enough to be his guardian. "Yeah, I guess so," he said agreeably. "So what then?"

Scott shrugged. "Then it's pretty much just practice until you can control the shift."

"Will he be able to turn into a real wolf?" Stiles asked, though he knew the answer.

Scott shook his head. "It's incredibly rare for that to happen, especially to a bitten wolf," he answered.

Stiles looked at Derek. They didn't actually know if his meatsuit had been born a werewolf or was bitten, but he supposed it didn't matter. No way was Derek going to be able to find the level of inner peace or whatever that was required to achieve a full shift. "Well that's boring," he said.

Scott laughed. "Life as a 'wolf is anything but boring," he disagreed.

"Well thanks, but I'll pass," Stiles said blithely. 

Scott shrugged. "Your choice," he said easily before turning back to Derek and beginning to coach him through shifting at will.

* * *

Derek picked everything up relatively quickly, thanks to his strength as a demon and his prior knowledge and understanding of werewolves, but rather than being suspicious, Scott was proud and impressed. He hadn't offered Derek or Stiles a place in his pack yet, but Stiles felt like that wouldn't be far off. They'd been hanging out together a lot lately, Derek included, and everyone seemed to like them well enough. What was more, they trusted them - which was far more than Stiles could ever have hoped for. It was starting to look like this job would be easier than either of them had anticipated.

Unfortunately, the lack of a challenge was starting to get to Stiles. "I'm _bored_ ," he whined one evening after the pack had left, because they'd started taking over his and Derek's loft whenever they were all together. This development still hadn't seduced Derek into buying a TV, though. Stiles was upside down on the couch, his head inches from the floor and his knees hooked over the back; Derek was giving him an unimpressed look from his position in the armchair, which he had bought only after he'd been made to sit on the floor for the fifth time. "I wanna go kill someone. You wanna go kill someone?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Not particularly; if the pack smells blood on me it'll make everything harder. And with the way we like to play with our food, they'd smell the fear, too."

Stiles sighed forlornly, looking up at the ceiling in despair. A moment later, however, he turned back to Derek. "You wanna fuck?"

Derek looked up at Stiles, surprised. "Why?" he asked slowly.

"Because I'm _bored_ ," Stiles answered, just as slow. "I can't fuck a human, I might break them. Besides, your meatsuit is..." He trailed off meaningfully, a hungry look in his eyes.

Derek considered that for a moment, then shrugged "Fair enough," he conceded. "So: wall, couch, or bed?"

Stiles smirked. "Just get your wolfy ass over here."

* * *

Over the next few days, Derek and Stiles fucked regularly; demons didn't really need sleep, and didn't really have a refractory period. It took a bit of work to cover the smell of sex all over the loft when the pack came over, and Derek more than once had to excuse himself to retreat to the bathroom because of Stiles's obscene gestures, or even just his fucking hands or the oral fixation he'd apparently picked up. Apparently his meatsuit was now conditioned to get an erection anytime Stiles did that thing with his tongue that had nearly made Derek beg when the other demon had used it on his hole.

Somehow they managed to keep everything together, and just shy of a week after the first time Derek and Stiles fucked, Scott officially offered them places in the pack. "You're sure?" Derek had asked, feigning shock. "I-- You don't really know us."

"We know you're a good man," Scott said, and Derek had to fight back a laugh; Stiles did, too, if the choked-off noise coming from him was any indication. "And we think it'd be a good idea to have you in our pack; you're an omega, and omegas... They don't tend to stay sane long."

Stiles exchanged a look with Derek before giving Scott a smile. "Thank you," he said. "I know this idiot wanted to go it alone, but I think that's a good idea." He nudged Derek. "Don't you?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I think it might be easier in a pack," he admitted. "I've felt a little more settled around you guys lately." Or, more accurately, the _wolf_ felt more settled when the pack was around; Derek didn't much care either way.

Stiles grinned. "So, is that that, or is there anything we need to do?"

Scott shrugged. "That's pretty much it; now that I've officially acknowledged you as pack the rest's instincts will kick in."

"Does that mean there'll be puppy piles?" Stiles asked, a little apprehensive. 

"Probably, yeah," Scott answered with a grin.

"Lovely," Derek muttered, rolling his eyes.

* * *

There were, indeed, puppy piles. Lots and lots of puppy piles. Derek would have tried to decline, but his wolf-- his _meatsuit's_ wolf-- seemed to need the closeness of the pack, more than just being in the same room. Stiles made fun of him whenever the rest of the pack wasn't there(and even sometimes when they were), but Derek eventually just dragged Stiles bodily into the pile with them; they all laughed at Stiles's complaining that it smelled like wet dog(it was Stiles's fault that they'd broken the window; he'd wanted a little more of a thrill the last time they'd had sex), but eventually Stiles stopped complaining, and Derek had noticed the other demon sitting closer to everyone, even Derek when it was only the two of them.

About two and a half months passed before the first real threat started making itself known; there'd been a couple of drownings in the nearby river, and a witness claimed that his friend had climbed onto some strange horse that had no tack; his friend hadn't responded, even when the witness had tried to drag him away by force. He'd mounted the strange horse, and had been taken to the bottom of the river. After the pack went home one night, Derek waited until they were all well out of earshot before he turned to Stiles. "Think we should use Scott and Lydia as bait? If they get taken by the spirit..."

"That's a good idea," Stiles conceded readily, although he didn't sound too excited. "They haven't found a way out of the deals yet; if they die, they're guaranteed to end up downstairs." His head was resting on the back of the couch, and he rolled it towards Derek so he could look up at him. "They won't let Scott be bait, though. He's the alpha."

"True," Derek conceded. "But Scott's also pretty attached to his pack. If someone else was in trouble, he'd put himself in front of them." Like Stiles, Derek didn't sound awfully excited about the prospect of their job being over so easily.

"So, what?" Stiles asked. "We put Lydia in the line of fire, Scott jumps in to save her, and we make sure that they both go down?"

Derek shrugged. "Be pretty easy to do. Easier than helping Crowley wrangle the Winchesters."

Stiles sighed. "Yeah, but... too easy?" he asked. "Kind of boring, really."

Derek considered that for a moment. "Yeah. Plus, it's also boring in Hell. Least here there's a bit of variation in the days."

Stiles smirked, remembering just how they'd been adding some variety lately. "So, maybe we should just see how things go? If they die, then they die, but maybe we shouldn't force things?"

Derek thought that over. "Sounds about right. We'll just keep them from getting out of the deal. Ten years up here isn't the worst thing to live through."

Stiles hummed in agreement. "If we're gonna be up here that long, though, I'm buying a PlayStation."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll buy us a television."

Stiles beamed. "Now you're talking!"

* * *

After they dealt with the evil horse spirit, the pack gathered at the loft, talking and shooting the shit while shooting zombies on the PlayStation 4 that Stiles had bought. Eventually Scott asked something that they'd all been curious about for a while. "So, Stiles-- how did you and Derek end up living together? I know you said that Derek's your guardian, but how did that happen?"

Stiles looked at Derek, his lips parted slightly in surprise. They really hadn't been expecting such an invasive question, but that was foolish of them; they were _pack_ now, after all. "Umm, Derek's my cousin," he said slowly, keeping his heartbeat even. "After my parents died, he took me in."

Derek nodded in agreement when the pack looked to him. "Stiles and I have always been pretty close, and we've had a unique relationship that I wouldn't trade for the world."

Stiles smirked inwardly. "I wouldn't, either," he said, smiling at Derek.

"That's really sweet," Allison piped up. "I was that close to my aunt, once."

Isaac patted her knee sympathetically before turning to Derek. "But what about your family? If you're Stiles' cousin, shouldn't your parents have been the ones to take him in?"

Derek's expression twisted. "My family was killed in a fire," he said, and it wasn't even a lie. "I and my sister were the only survivors, but we didn't stay together. I don't know what happened to her."

As one, the pack hissed in a sympathetic breath. "I'm sorry," Allison said, and she was speaking for all of them. "That's awful."

Derek shrugged. "It happened a long time ago," he said truthfully. "Besides, I've got Stiles. Who can be bored when he's around?"

* * *

In hindsight, they probably should have seen this coming. It took Derek a moment to get his mouth working, but then he opened the loft door the rest of the way. "Crowley, sir-- We weren't expecting you."

"Obviously," Crowley said dismissively, striding into the loft. "Decent little place you two have set up here; smells like dog and sex, though. Having pack orgies, are we?"

Derek gritted his teeth. "No. Searbhreathach and I got... bored. We did get close to the pack-- had to, actually. Apparently this meatsuit's a 'wolf, too."

"Oh, running a long con?" Crowley asked, intrigued. "I thought you two would have just kidnapped them and scared them into submission. You've never been the patient sort."

"I wanted to do that when we first came here," Derek admitted, sending Stiles a quick text; **Boss is here; get your ass out of be**. "Searbhreathach convinced me otherwise."

Stiles staggered into the room a few minutes later to find Crowley sitting on the sofa beside Derek, who looked very uncomfortable. "Well this is a surprise," he said weakly as he fell into the armchair. "You should've called ahead, I could have got the good scotch in."

Crowley snorted. "Please. You don't even look old enough for Derek to be fucking. Now. I'm here because you two have been topside for almost six months, and no one has heard any updates on your progress."

"There's been progress--" Derek started, but Crowley cut him off.

"Minimal, from what I've seen. Are you, or are you not, dealing with the problem of Scott McCall and Lydia Martin trying to get out of their contracts?"

"Yes," Stiles answered. "So far they haven't had time to keep looking for a way out of the deals, and once we've got their complete trust we'll make a move to make sure they never will."

Crowley hummed thoughtfully. "So you, what-- joined their pack? Pack bonds, from what I understand, are very powerful."

"Exactly," Stiles said. "So we can use that against them."

"Or it can be used against you," Crowley countered. "Be careful, boys; I already have to deal with Squirrel and Moose. I don't want to have to deal with the Fox and the Hound, too."

Stiles gave a half-hearted chuckle. "It won't come to that, boss."

"See that it doesn't." With that, Crowley disappeared. Derek blew out a breath.

"Fuck."

Stiles returned the sentiment. "We're going to have to step up our game," he added. "Or else find a way to keep him off our backs for a while."

"Unless you want to go find a demon willing to annoy the Winchesters, or lead them on a wild goose chase, that second one's not going to happen," Derek said, resigned. "Which means we need to confront Scott and Lydia soon."

"How?" Stiles asked. "If we tell them that we're demons, they'll just exorcise us."

Derek considered that. "I wonder if there's an amulet or anything that'll keep us in these bodies."

"We could create a binding link," Stiles suggested. "But that would hurt. And there are other ways for them to keep us at a distance."

Derek scrubs a hand over his face, then pauses when a thought occurs to him. "Wait. Crowley mentioned that pack bonds were strong-- really, really strong. We're pretty much pack now; do you think it would hurt them to exorcise us? I noticed when Isaac got thrown into that tree that my own back hurt even though nothing touched it."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Maybe," he said. "Unless the betrayal of finding out we're demons is strong enough to sever the bonds."

"It might be," Derek conceded after a moment. "Shit. We probably should have come up with more of a plan."

"We've got time," Stiles offered after a moment. "Crowley won't be back for a while."

"If the Winchesters are still acting like they usually do, then no, he won't be back," Derek agreed. "Sometimes I wonder about what the boss really thinks of them."

Stiles laughed. "I don't think we want to know."

* * *

They kept their heads down for about a week, in terms of keeping off of both Crowley's and the pack's radars. They knew they couldn't make any bold moves to stop Lydia and Scott from breaking their deals without blowing their cover, and they also knew that that was the last thing they wanted. It would be too... inconvenient. So they decided to carry on as normal, and try to come up with a much more subtle way of keeping the deals intact.

The problem was, inspiration was proving elusive, and sitting around the loft staring at the ceiling while they waited for it to strike was in no way preferable than other activities they could be engaging in. Too often their gazes turned heated as they wandered to each other, and then all it took was a quirked eyebrow and a jerk of the head to have them pulling their shirts over their heads and unzipping their jeans. Ultimately, they managed to keep their heads down for an entire week because they were too busy screwing like rabbits to do anything else.

Anything else, like paying attention to their pack. It caught them unawares, therefore, when Scott and co. came looking - and caught an eyeful of Derek fucking Stiles over the back of the couch.

"What the _fuck_!"

Derek was pretty sure none of them had thought to knock-- or used their ears. He and Stiles hadn't exactly been quiet. "Do you mind?" he asked mildly, resisting the urge to roll his hips against Stiles's ass; the way Stiles had tensed at Isaac's exclamation was very telling about how Stiles felt about this situation.

"What the _fuck_!" Isaac squeaked again, an entire octave higher than before.

"Fuck, Derek, get out-- off of me," Stiles hissed. "This, um, isn't what it looks like?"

"Oh," Scott asked, surprisingly calm. "So your cousin _doesn't_ have his dick up your ass?"

It took Stiles less than a second to realise that this _had_ to be what it looked like, because otherwise they were screwed - and not in the fun way.

"He's _still hard_!" Isaac whined.

Stiles' hands flew to his crotch. "Oh my God, fuck off!"

"Okay, enough," Derek said decisively, flinging the nearest item at Isaac-- which happened to be his boxers. "All of you, out. Let us get dressed, and don't come back up here until we text you."

It took them a moment to snap out of their deer-in-headlights daze, and then they scarpered pretty quick. Isaac was the first one out of the door.

Stiles gave them enough time to clear the building, and then he looked over his shoulder at Derek, who had yet to pull out. "Isaac was right, y'know," he said conversationally. "I am still hard."

"I wonder what we could do about that, _cousin_?" Stiles moaned and dropped his head back onto Derek's shoulder, and that was all the answer Derek needed.

* * *

Scott got a text from Stiles approximately ten minutes later-- and Scott didn't want to know what they'd been doing during those ten minutes-- and the pack cautiously made their way back up to the loft. Scott knocked and entered only after being given the okay. "So," he began, face heating. "That was... awkward."

"No shit," Stiles and Isaac said together. Stiles was sitting in his usual seat on the newly-cleaned sofa; Derek in the armchair. They met each other's gaze and Stiles sighed. "You guys wanna sit down?"

Scott nodded; he and Allison took the loveseat, and the rest of the pack spread out around the living room. "So," Scott said, glancing at Allison. "You guys are, uh--"

"Fucking," Jackson said flatly. "You're fucking."

"Very observant of you," Derek said dryly. "Yes, we are."

"But you're _related_ ," Isaac whined. Stiles was worried he might pop a blood vessel.

"We're only cousins," he pointed out. "And there's no risk of inbreeding."

"Oh my god," Scott muttered, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "So. You, uh-- Is it just physical?"

Again, Stiles exchanged glances with Derek. "No," he said. "I love him."

It wasn't too hard for Derek to summon a small smile and answer, "And I love him."

"This is so fucking wrong," Isaac muttered, looking decidedly green around the gills.

Stiles ignored him. "So what now?" he asked Scott. "Are you going to kick us out of the pack?"

Scott hesitated, looking to the rest of the pack. Lydia spoke up first. "You're not hurting anyone, and as long as it's consensual, then it's none of our business."

Jackson shrugged. "Just don't make me watch, and we're cool."

"I just... You're cousins," Allison said, clearly confused and undecided. "I mean, that's closer than is usually legal."

"It's legal in England," Stiles offered, thinking fast. "And, actually, it's legal here."

Allison shrugged. "I guess we've all seen weirder things," she conceded after a moment. "Doesn't mean this won't take some getting used to."

Boyd eyed Derek for a moment before he spoke up. "This is completely consensual?" he asked, studying Derek intently; Derek knew why. In their cover story, Derek was the adult-- legally, he was the one responsible.

"Yes," Derek said, knowing his heartbeat would remain steady. "We both agreed to this, and if he ever wants to stop, we will."

"Which I won't," Stiles said quickly, taking a gamble. "I'm in love with Derek, and we're not doing anything wrong. Uh, unless you count the whole, statutory rape thing. But I'm almost eighteen, and then it'll all be above board, so if you're going to have a problem with it we can leave."

Boyd considered that briefly. "You're both pack," he said simply. "As long as you're both happy."

"What?" Isaac protested. "It's _weird_!"

"Isaac, shut up," Lydia snapped. "I think Boyd's right."

"I have to agree with Lydia and Boyd," Scott said finally. "You're not hurting anyone, you care about each other, and you're happy. But uh, maybe think about locking the loft door more frequently? I really don't need to know anything about your sex life."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You guys should have used your ears," he countered. "The loft isn't exactly soundproof."

"I heard it," Erica admitted, unashamed. "I just didn't believe it. And, for the record, I don't agree with Jackson. I don't mind watching."

Derek rolled his eyes. "That's up to Stiles," he informed her. "I don't think he likes an audience."

Stiles made a point of shuddering. "No thanks," he said, giving Derek a small smile. "I'm kind of private."

"Okay, now I want to puke," Erica said. She turned to the others. "How did we never notice this? They're just too cute!"

"Cute isn't the word I'd use," Isaac said darkly.

Alright, Derek had had just about enough of Isaac's attitude. "Do you have an opinion you'd like to share with the class?" he asked sharply, eyes narrowed.

Isaac was silent for a beat, before he launched straight in. "Yes," he said. "Legal or not, screwing your cousin, your _underage_ cousin, is weird. It's _wrong_. Did someone drop you on your head as a child? You can't love each other, you're related!"

"I do love him," Derek said firmly, and didn't think about why that didn't even feel like anything but the truth. "That's not for you, or anyone else to decide. I decide what I feel, and I know that what I feel for Stiles is more than I've ever felt for anyone else before. Maybe we should've waited a few more months, but what's done is done."

Stiles was oddly touched by the sentiment, and decided to add weight to Derek's words by getting up to stand by his side, a hand on his shoulder. "Derek's right," he said. "Maybe we should have waited until I turned eighteen, but I'm going to feel exactly the same then as I do now." He squeezed Derek's shoulder, a silent apology for what he was about to say. "And, if I'm honest, I think we've both been through enough that we deserve to take whatever happiness we can get, while we can get it."

Finally, Isaac's expression softened. Stiles knew all too well that Isaac had experienced his own fair share of heartache. "I guess I can understand that," he conceded.

Derek smiled. "Thank you, Isaac."

"To all of you," Stiles added. "It means a lot to us, being a part of this pack. We don't want to go."

"And you won't have to," Scott promised. "Just... lock the loft door, or go upstairs, please?"

Derek laughed at the uncomfortable look on Scott's face. "Sure, Scott."

"We promise," Stiles said sincerely.

* * *

Things were a bit odd for a few days after that; Derek and Stiles still fucked, but around the rest of the pack they kept their distance from each other. Frankly, Derek hated that-- he hadn't realized how close he and Stiles usually sat until they couldn't do it anymore. Or at least, until they thought they couldn't. 

Allison dissuaded them of that notion during the next pack movie night; she'd somehow coerced the rest of the pack into leaving Derek and Stiles the armchair(she herself was sprawled over the loveseat with her feet in Isaac's lap and her head in Scott's) and when Derek went to sit on the floor, she coughed pointedly. "We left you _both_ the armchair. You're allowed to be couple-y, you know."

Stiles froze, his eyes wide. "We... are?"

"Of course you are," Lydia said, rolling her eyes. "Just because _some_ \--" she shot Isaac a pointed look "-- of us kicked up a fuss the other day doesn't mean you have to try to make us comfortable. So go be as disgustingly couple-y as Erica and Boyd."

Stiles wasn't sure that he wanted to be as couple-y as Erica and Boyd, but he couldn't really express that without going back on everything they'd already said. So he bit his tongue, and let Derek sit down in the armchair before clambering into his lap. They'd sat like this before when they were on their own, admittedly for much less innocent reasons, and he already knew that the position was comfortable. What he wasn't prepared for was how nice it was to be able to sit like this in front of their friends.

To be honest, Derek wasn't prepared for that either, and it was slightly awkward-- he had to forcibly remind himself that they had _company_ , so _no_ , it wasn't appropriate to follow through on his body's conditioned response to Stiles sitting on his lap. Instead, he helped Stiles get settled and then wrapped his arms around the other demon, glancing nervously towards Scott, who smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Stiles smiled back and let his head rest against Derek's shoulder with a happy sigh.

"Utterly disgusting," Erica said cheerfully. 

"They're just like every other couple here," Lydia agreed from her own spot tucked under Jackson's arm, nodding towards where Allison and Scott were smiling at each other as Scott absently braided Allison's hair.

Stiles followed her gaze, something twisting in his stomach as he realised just how affectionate everyone was being. Unlike him and Derek, though, the others weren't faking it. All of the other couples were in love and they cared so much about each other, and they cared about the rest of the pack, too. It made Stiles feel dirty somehow, like he was tainting them just by being there. He looked at Derek, wondering what he was thinking.

Derek was thinking along the same lines; his arms tightened around Stiles, his expression guilty. He... Well, he wasn't looking forward to ten years down the line, and tearing Scott and Lydia away from their mates. It would devastate Allison and Jackson.

Stiles sighed and turned to hide his face in Derek's neck, trying to fight down similar feelings. They had a job to do, and Scott and Lydia had damned themselves - they'd known what they were getting into. So why did Stiles feel so awful about it?

* * *

The uneasy feeling continued, but it intensified for an entirely different reason when an older couple showed up at the library where Derek was volunteering(shut up, he'd been roped into it by one of his co-workers). The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when they entered, and he shamelessly stared after them, ignoring the other librarian there when she asked what was wrong. The couple had taken a seat in front of one of the computers, and when Derek walked past, they were looking at the history of the town-- more specifically, they were looking at the murders of the past few years. Derek quickly walked into the break room, locking the door behind him as he dialed Stiles's number. "We've got a problem," he said as soon as Stiles picked up. "Hunters."

"What?" Stiles hissed. "Are you sure?"

Derek glanced out the window, just in time to catch a glimpse of an anti-possession tattoo. "Positive. Warn the pack."

"Be careful." Stiles hung up without waiting for an answer and dialed Scott. "We have a big problem."

"What is it?" Scott asked sharply, instantly alert. 

"Derek just saw hunters at work."

"Shit," Scott swore. "Is he absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Stiles said. "What do we do?"

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. "We'll meet at the loft," he decided. “Make sure Derek can describe these hunters, and we'll go from there."

Stiles voiced his agreement and hung up to text Scott's instructions to Derek. He supposed he should get dressed.

* * *

Derek got to the loft before the rest of the pack; he found Stiles in the kitchen and wasted no time in informing him, "It's not the Winchesters, but they've got anti-possession tattoos. They know their shit."

Stiles sighed. "If they rumble us, we're fucked," he said.

"No shit," Derek replied, sighing. "We can't let them out us to the pack, either; we'll have to be especially wary whenever we confront them."

"We should be okay," Stiles reasoned. "We haven't made any deals since we got here, so they can't track us through our work. If they're here for the pack then they'll come with wolfsbane and machetes, not devil's traps and iron."

"Even that shit hurts like a bitch," Derek growled. "You know what works on one supernatural creatures works to some extent on another, with some exceptions. And this meatsuit's a werewolf, remember?"

"Then don't get shot," Stiles said bluntly.

Before Derek could reply, the loft door opened, admitting the rest of the pack. Scott was the first to speak. "What did they look like?" he asked, getting straight to business.

"Mid-thirties; brunette, both of them, well-built with an air of confidence," Derek replied. "They were investigating the murders of the past few years, asked around a bit at the library. Heard them introduce themselves as Mr. Keith Jones and Ms. Lysa Montil, but I'm betting those are fake names."

Allison looked concerned. "I could ask my dad to talk to them?" she suggested.

Scott mulled that over, but Derek was hesitant. "I'm not sure it'd work," he confessed. "They didn't seem like the type to be mollified by that."

"So what do we do?" Stiles asked. "Fight them?"

"I don't know; don't ask me," Derek protested-- and he didn't know. Any other time there'd been hunters around while he'd been topside, he'd been able to disappear, but he couldn't do that this time. 

"I was asking Scott, actually," Stiles snarked.

Scott interrupted before Derek could shoot back a retort. "I think having Allison's dad talk to them would be a good first step; if nothing else that'll give us a better impression of who they are," he decided. "In the meantime, no one goes anywhere alone."

Isaac nodded. "What do we do if they come to us first?"

"Run like hell," Scott answered bluntly. "We don't know anything about them, so we have to assume the worst. Keep a look out for the smell of wolfsbane, and if you scent it, then leave the area immediately. Allison, Lydia, Stiles, that means you need to be with a wolf at all times." After a moment's consideration, he added, "Just in case, everyone have an emergency mass text ready to go, and let the pack know where you're going and what time you expect to be back, and if you're running late. This way, if they do get the drop on you, you've already set a check-in time, and if you manage to send the emergency text, we know where to start looking and will be hot on your heels."

Stiles nodded. "That's a good idea. I'll stick with Derek, obviously."

That made sense, and the pack nodded. "I'll stick with Allison, and Lydia, if you'd stay with Jackson, for the most part?" Lydia and Jackson nodded. "Isaac, Erica, Boyd, can you be our backup if we need you to be with one of the humans?"

The trio nodded, murmuring their agreement. 

* * *

Chris's conversation with the hunters only confirmed Derek's suspicions; the hunters weren't budging. So the pack remained on high alert, following Scott's plan-- and they were incredibly grateful for it when an SOS came from Lydia's phone while she and Jackson were at the mall. Danny was able to hack the security feed of the parking lot to get a direction, the wolves got a scent, and through technological and supernatural means, the pack was able to track the hunters to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. "Cliché," Derek muttered to Stiles as they approached. "Be careful of traps."

"Of all varieties," Stiles said darkly. "Okay, how are we doing this?"

Scott considered the warehouse. "Split up," he decided. "Half; me, Allison, Isaac. Boyd, Stiles, Derek, and Erica, go around the back. We'll take the front."

Everyone nodded, and Erica slipped her hand into Boyd's. "Good luck," Stiles said, and the two groups split up. 

* * *

Everything went according to plan until they got inside-- Derek and Stiles, luckily, were bringing up the rear so Erica and Boyd didn't see them skirt the edge of a demon's trap just inside the door. Once they were all inside, however, it all went spectacularly to shit.

Derek heard the sound of a gun being cocked and instinctively threw himself to the side-- only to fall right into the middle of a devil's trap. "Shit," he hissed, looking for Stiles frantically and hoping the other demon was close. "Stiles!"

Stiles was indeed close at hand, but he was a little occupied by the gun being held to his head.

"You a demon, too?" the hunter asked, and Stiles' eyes flickered red automatically. "Disgusting." Stiles brought his elbow up hard, and the hunter was on the floor before he could utter more than a couple of syllables of Latin, unconscious.

Pleased with himself, Stiles hurried over to Derek to break the devil's trap. "Smooth," he hissed. "I almost get shot in the head and you stumble right into--"

"Get down!" Erica yelled, right before they were assaulted by a shower of bullets.

Derek and the rest of the pack hit the floor-- but not before there was an agonized shout from Scott. " _Scott_!" Allison screamed, desperate, and as soon as Stiles had broken the trap with a pocketknife, Derek was on his feet, running for the hunter; from the corner of his eye, he could see Jackson and Boyd taking down the woman, Jackson bleeding from the shoulder. 

For all of their prep work, it was almost pathetically easy to take the hunters down with the help of the rest of the pack; unfortunately, they didn't stop fighting to the very end, when Derek ripped the woman's throat out with his teeth and Stiles fired a bullet into the man's forehead. Derek didn't bother staying by his kill, instead darting to Scott's side where Allison was frantically dismantling a bullet, her hands shaking. "What do you need me to do?" Derek demanded, glancing to where Lydia was clinically applying burnt wolfsbane to Jackson's own wound and chiding him for being an idiot while he growled and hissed in pain.

"Nothing, nothing, I've got it," Allison insisted, tipping the content of the bullet out onto her palm. It was clear that she was freaking out, but she was still in control. "Go check on Stiles."

Derek nodded, giving Allison's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before going to Stiles. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, though his eyes were wide. "You?"

Derek glanced around before shaking his head. "Not really, no," he confessed, nodding towards Lydia and then Allison. "Look at them."

"I see it," Stiles said softly. "I can't... What's it gonna be like when Scott and Lydia are gone for good?"

"Worse," Derek said with quiet confidence. "It'll be so much worse."

Stiles winced. "How can we put them through that?"

Derek glanced at them again before looking back at Stiles. "Maybe we don't."

"What are you saying?" Stiles asked, though he knew the answer. "We have a _job_ to do."

"I'm not saying we destroy the contracts," Derek said carefully, "but if we tweak them..."

"Tweak them how?" Stiles asked. "I'm not saying no, I just... We have to be careful."

"I know we do; I don't want to think about what Crowley would do to us if we mess up, but..." Derek hesitated before saying, "We should talk about this back at the loft."

"Yeah, we should," Stiles agreed. "Is everyone okay to move?" That last part was said louder, and there was a chorus of agreements; luckily the burnt wolfsbane worked quickly. Allison texted her dad, telling him what had happened; he'd deal with the bodies.

Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles's waist. "Come on; let's head back to the loft."

* * *

After everything was taken care of, Derek and Stiles were left alone in the loft. Derek broke the silence. "So, we're going to help them get out of their contracts. Or at least make it so their souls can't be collected."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Stiles said softly. "We're _demons_ , Derek. We're not supposed to have fluffy feelings."

"Yet here we are," Derek pointed out. "I don't like seeing the pack so distraught, and it'll be worse if we take Scott and Lydia for good."

"We won't have to be here," Stiles pointed out, though he knew it was weak. "We can leave as soon as the contracts are due, or even before - we could sell the contracts to some other, properly heartless demon and let him deal with it."

"Do you really want to do that, though?" Derek asked, frowning.

Stiles sighed. "No."

"Then we need to figure out a way to help them out of the contracts. We can't just destroy the contracts, but maybe we can amend them."

"Should we tell them?" Stiles asked.

Derek thought that over. "I think we'll have to," he answered after a moment. "They won't believe us otherwise."

"They're gonna take that well."

* * *

It took a few days for an opportunity to present itself, but when it came, it did in the form of an overheard conversation.

Scott cornered Lydia just after lunch one day, counting on the stampede of students to help mask their conversation. "Have you found anything else?"

Lydia sighed and shook her head. "Nothing. No one's ever gotten out of a deal, no matter what they try. Eventually they have to leave the ring, or the hounds track them down, drive them mad. There's no way out of it, Scott. We'll be dead in ten years-- less now."

Stiles could hear the conversation clearly over the din in the corridor, and he felt his heart twist at the hopelessness in Lydia's voice. In an instant he was beside her, a hand on her shoulder. He felt her jump, and Scott looked surprised, too, but he didn't waste any time trying to explain anything here. "I think I can help you," he told them instead. "Can you come with me?"

Scott and Lydia exchanged glances before following Stiles into an empty classroom. "What do you mean, you can help us?" Scott asked warily.

Stiles sighed. "I know that you sold your souls, and that you're trying to get out of the contract," he said. "It's never been done before, to the best of my knowledge. But it is possible."

Lydia eyed Stiles suspiciously. "How would you know that?"

"I have a fair amount of experience in the area," Stiles said evasively. "Do you want my help, or not?"

Lydia looked to Scott, who nodded. "If this comes back to bite us, you'll wish you'd never been born," she warned. 

"It won't," Stiles promised. "Come over to the loft after school and we'll talk."

* * *

Stiles told Derek what was going on, so Derek was waiting for the pack's arrival when Stiles got home from school; he wasn't disappointed. After everyone had taken a seat, Derek glanced at Stiles. "How do we want to do this?"

"I guess we should just get it over with," Stiles answered. "Like a band aid, y'know?" He looked to the rest of the pack, and sighed. "I'm guessing you all know why we're here?"

They nodded, and Derek took a breath before continuing, "Stiles and I can help. We have a... unique insight into crossroads deals."

"How unique?" Lydia asked sharply.

Derek let his eyes flicker red. "We're the demons who sealed the deals."

" _What_?" Isaac snarled, his eyes flashing yellow. He wasn't the only one; every member of the pack looked furious, but Stiles could detect a hint of fear there, too.

"Easy," he said quickly. "We want to help, remember?"

Scott was on his feet, standing in front of the rest of the pack. "Why?" He demanded, snarling. "Why would you help us if you're the ones who sold the deals in the first place?"

"Because we fucked up, okay?" Stiles looked at Derek, reached out to him for support. "We came here when we realised you were trying to get out of the deals, to stop you at first. But something changed, and we've realised that we can't go through with it."

"It's true," Derek agreed. "You're pack, as much as demons can have a pack. And we've seen enough and gotten to know you all well enough to know that if we don't help you, ten years down the line your entire pack will be destroyed."

"Why should we trust you?" Lydia demanded. "You've been lying to us this whole time.”

"Can you honestly say if we _hadn't_ that you would've reacted well?" Derek answered with a raised eyebrow. 

"What's stopping us from exorcising you right now?" Lydia asked.

Stiles sighed. "Nothing," he said. "If you want to die in ten years, go ahead. But we can help you get out of this, and we want to."

"It's impossible to break a crossroads deal," Derek elaborated. "You can't even kill the demon who holds your deal because then it just gets passed to the next demon, and the next. The only way out is to rewrite the contract, and that can only be done with the full cooperation of everyone involved."

"Rewrite it how?" Lydia asked, eyes narrowed. "Don't you think if there was a loophole, we would have found it by now?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I literally just told you the only loophole there is-- you wouldn't have heard of it because few demons grow a conscience."

"So why have you? Why now?"

"Because we made the wrong call in how to deal with this situation, and I picked up the wrong meatsuit," Derek said bluntly. "We decided to work our way into your pack, but we didn't count on just how powerful pack bonds could be."

"We care about you," Stiles explained. "All of you. If it hasn't already been made obvious, we're risking a lot in deciding to help you like this. We wouldn't be doing that if we weren't serious."

Scott shared a look with the rest of the pack before looking back at the two demons. He couldn't believe he was about to do this, but... "If we even _think_ that you're tricking us, we will send you back to Hell faster than you can blink."

"We're not," Stiles said. "We promise."

There was a pause, and then Isaac piped up. "So you're _not_ related?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "No, we're not. It was just our cover."

"Oh," Isaac said, sighing. "That's something, at least."

Stiles shot him a sharp look. "Seriously?"

Derek mirrored the look. "Is it seriously better than knowing that we are both _literal_ demons?"

"Kind of," Isaac admitted. "I'm sure I could get used to the demon thing."

"You're kind of an asshole, you know that?" Stiles asked.

"I'm sure it keeps him up at night," Derek said dryly.

"So how are you going to help us?" Scott asked, steering the conversation back to its original track.

"We rewrite the deals," Derek explained. "It can only be done with the full cooperation of the demon who holds the contract; I sold Scott his, Stiles sold Lydia hers. We are both here, and we're both willing to rewrite the contracts."

"How?" Lydia asked. "Something tells me that just changing the deal from 'I'll give you my soul' to 'I won't' isn't going to cut it."

"It won't," Derek agreed. "But we can change the terms of _when_ your souls are collected. It won't have an effect on when or how you die, but it will guarantee that it won't be from hellhounds in ten years."

"Keep talking," Lydia said.

Stiles sighed. "There's an old legend, about a woman who was forced to agree to marry the chief of a clan. Neither the woman nor the chief wanted to go through with it, but the traditions of the clan gave them no choice. So the woman told the clansmen about a bird that flew to a remote island every year and pecked a boulder once before flying away. She said that on the day the bird pecked the boulder into a grain of sand, she would marry their chief. A date was set for the wedding, which satisfied the needs of the clan, and the woman and the chief never had to marry."

"We amend the contracts to a similar set of terms, and your souls are never collected," Derek concluded. "We can't use that exact scenario, but if we come up with something similar enough to it, then the problem is solved."

Lydia stared. "That... might work."

"It's the only thing that can," Derek replied. "Crossroads deals were designed to be practically loophole free. Like we said, the only way this works is with the full cooperation of every party involved, and few demons grow a conscience."

"Okay," Lydia said, glancing at Scott. "We'll do it."

* * *

That evening after a brainstorming session, after the pack had left, Derek asked Stiles a question that'd been bugging him for decades. "Why did you sell your soul? I just - I can't think you'd sell your soul for money or fame."

Stiles snorted. "I didn't," he said. "I sold it for my family."

"Your family?" Derek prompted.

"My father," Stiles said. "I'm from Ireland originally, I think I told you. There's a whole lot of hype around the potato famine, that everyone starved because all we ate was potatoes. That's not really how it happened, but it was really bad. People did starve, and my mother was one of them. After she died, it was like my dad just gave up. He wouldn't eat what little food we did have; he barely left the house. I knew that if I didn't get my mom back, it wouldn't be long before I lost both of my parents. So I did what I had to do."

"You brought her back?" Derek guessed.

"And made sure that they would be happy and healthy for the rest of their lives," Stiles said. "The famine didn't touch us after that."

Derek was quiet for a moment. "I told you I killed my family," he said finally. "I didn't start the fire, but I... We moved to California shortly after the gold rush started. We didn't strike it rich, but we made a decent amount of money, from the gold and the bed and breakfast my mother ran from our home. I got involved with a woman-- Kate Argent. She seemed nice at first, but eventually it became clear she was really interested in our money. She wanted me to get it for her, but when I refused she threatened to kill my family and take it by force. I didn't believe her, and I was too scared to warn my family.

"A few weeks later, my older sister, Laura, and I went to get supplies. We came back to our home burning down, our family trapped inside. We left town after that, and I heard about the crossroads demons. I made a deal for my family to be brought back, and for none of that to have happened or be remembered. In return, I got five years."

"Shit," Stiles said softly. "That's..."

"Terrible," Derek finished bluntly. "I kept track of the days, and when my deal came due, I went for a hike and never came home."

"So they didn't even know?" Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head. "As far as anyone was concerned, we'd taken a holiday to St. Louis. And I just... disappeared five years later."

"Oh my God," Stiles said. "That must have been awful. For them and for you."

Derek shrugged. "Maybe. They lived, though, so I can't regret it."

”I get that," Stiles said, nodding.

Derek offered Stiles a smile. "Thanks," he said, hesitating before adding, "I know we're demons, but... I'm glad we work together."

"Me too," Stiles said, nodding. "I guess, now that the pack knows, we don't have to pretend to be together-together, anymore."

Derek worried his lower lip. "We don't have to," he agreed, "but... Maybe we just don't have to pretend."

Stiles looked up. "Seriously?" he asked.

Derek nodded. "Seriously. But only if you want to," he added hastily.

Stiles blushed. "I don't think I've been pretending for a while."

Derek felt a smile creep over his expression as Stiles's words registered. "Same here," he confessed.

Stiles grinned back. "Isaac's gonna have a fit."

Derek shrugged. "I don't really care about that, do you?" he asked, getting up and moving to straddle Stiles where he sat in the armchair.

"Not in the slightest," Stiles grinned, wrapping his arms around Derek's shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss.

* * *

The next day found the pack gathered once more at the loft, this time armed with pens and lots of paper, to draft the amendments to Scott and Lydia's contracts. "So," Derek began, twirling a pen between his fingers. "We need something that will keep the hellhounds away in about nine years. Any ideas?"

"Something that will never happen, obviously," Stiles said. "Or at least, not for a very long time."

"The end of time?" Isaac suggested. "You can collect their souls at the end of time?"

"Too obvious," Lydia dismissed. "Am I right in thinking it must also be ambiguous?"

Derek nodded. "It has to be phrased so that we could _possibly_ collect your souls earlier, but the interpretation will be left to the demon who holds the contract-- meaning me and Stiles."

"What about when all the rivers run dry?" Allison asked. 

"Unless there's gonna be a huge drought in a year or two..."

"It will happen eventually, though," Isaac pointed out anxiously. "The world won't last forever. Will there still be hellhounds to break into heaven or, or wherever, when the world ends?"

Derek and Stiles exchanged a glance. "The world almost ended a few years ago," Derek said finally. "The Winchesters managed to keep it from happening."

"What if next time they're not so lucky?" Isaac asked.

"Maybe Isaac was onto something," Lydia said, leaning forward. "The end of time is too specific, but if we tweaked it?"

Scott looked at Lydia questioningly. "Tweaked it how?"

"To be less specific," Lydia answered. "When the stars cease to shine, or when all the clocks stop."

Scott frowned. "Well, couldn't someone just stop all the clocks, or make a giant cloud at night?"

"It would take some doing," Lydia said. "Are two little souls really worth all that effort?"

"If it looks like they'll get out of a deal, yes," Derek answered. "Crowley-- the leader of the crossroads demons-- says he has a reputation to uphold."

"But it still depends on the interpretation of the demon who holds the contract, right?" Allison asked.

Derek nodded. "Right."

"Well, no one can stop Death's clock."

"That's genius!" Stiles crowed. "Even if this world ends, there's other dimensions and alternate realities and countless other universes, and Death spans them all. You'd literally be safe forever."

Derek gave Allison an impressed look. "That's really brilliant," he agreed. "Any arguments?"

"None from me," Lydia said, smiling proudly at Allison.

Isaac thought it over before shaking his head; the rest of the pack agreed with Allison's suggestion, and Derek glanced to Stiles. "We should probably draft the exact wording before we pull the original contracts out," he suggested. "I wouldn't put it past Crowley to have them watched, so we'll have to work fast once we get them."

Stiles nodded. "I can do that," he said. "I've got some ideas."

* * *

They made sure to hammer out the amendment as best as they could; by the time they were done, it was irontight, and neither Derek nor Stiles could think of any possible interpretation that would result in Scott and Lydia's souls being collected. Derek and Stiles each summoned their contracts and added the amendments word for word as fast as they could, and then sealed the new deals-- just as Crowley popped into the loft.

" _What do you think you're doing?_ "

"Doing business," Stiles said simply. "Something we can do for you, boss?"

"Let me see those contracts," Crowley demanded, suspicious. Derek handed his over, and Crowley read it, his expression turning incredulous when he got to the amendment. "Why did you amend these contracts?"

Stiles shrugged. "They gave us an offer we couldn't refuse."

"What offer?"

"That's our business, not yours."

"I am your boss," Crowley snapped. "So it's damn well my business! I sent you up here to keep those two from getting out of their contracts, and here you are _changing_ those very same contracts!"

"The changes mean that they can't get out of the contracts," Stiles said. "We've done the job you gave us."

Crowley gritted his teeth-- but technically, Searbhreathach was right. "Fine. Then I want you back down in the Pit and ready to go sign some more deals," he snapped, glaring at the two demons.

Stiles looked at Derek. "We don't think so."

Crowley tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Derek moved to stand next to Stiles. "We're staying up here-- we like it here, and besides; we can keep an eye on them."

Crowley eyed them suspiciously for a moment before realization hit. "Oh for the love of-- You actually think you're _pack_?"

Stiles clenched his teeth. "We are," he said.

Crowley looked around expectantly, only to see the other pack members moving to stand behind Stiles and Derek. "Oh come on," he laughed. "Surely you're not _that_ stupid, even for a bunch of mongrels. Do you even know why these two went to the Pit in the first place? How easily they broke, how competent they are at torturing? How much they _enjoyed_ it? They're demons, not pack."

"It doesn't matter," Lydia said.

"Whatever they've done, we'll work through together," Isaac agreed. "As a pack."

"You're serious," Crowley said disbelievingly. "My God, you're all worse than Dean Winchester-- and he shacked up with a vampire."

"Crowley, just go," Derek broke in. "You have plenty of other demons to do your bidding-- you won't miss two."

Crowley huffed, rolled his eyes-- and disappeared.

Stiles blinked. "That was easy."

Derek nodded. "Yeah. I'm not really sure whether to trust it."

Stiles looked at Derek, and then at his pack. "We'll be ready for him if he comes back," he said confidently.

* * *

Things were quiet for a few weeks after that, but Derek knew it wouldn't last; sure enough, at a pack meeting one evening, Scott brought up the subject of deals. "How did you and Stiles become demons, anyway?"

Derek exchanged a glance with Stiles. "We each made a deal, and ended up in the pit," he said, expecting that that would be the end of it.

"What kind of deals?" Lydia asked, and Stiles looked to Derek.

"The same kind you guys made," he said. "The kind to save people we loved."

"Who did you save?" Scott asked curiously.

"Our families," Stiles answered. 

They didn't look satisfied with that answer, so Derek elaborated. "I was responsible for my family's death. We came to California during what you would call the gold rush-- we did a little bit of panning, but mostly made our money running an inn. I got involved with a woman who wanted our money, and when I wouldn't help her steal it she murdered my family for it. I made the deal to bring them back and make sure they didn't remember. I got five years."

"My mother died in the Irish famine around the same time, and it all but destroyed my father," Stiles supplied. "I sold my soul for the both of them, and got ten years."

"I don't know what happened to my family," Derek admitted. "They were alive, last I knew. I kept track of the dates and when my deal came due I just went into the forest."

Lydia frowned. "What did you say your surname was?" she asked. "I'm guessing it's not Smith?"

Derek shrugged. "I think it started with an H," he answered honestly. "We were one of the first families out to the area, the only ones with a full inn."

"Not Hale?" Lydia asked.

Derek frowned. "Maybe. When Stiles and I stepped off the rack... We kinda stopped thinking about our human lives."

"There are Hales still in town," Lydia said. "They're an old family, one of the founding families. They don't own an inn anymore, but they own a restaurant. Restaurants, actually. A whole chain of them."

Derek exchanged a glance with Stiles. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Scott agreed quickly. "They're super hot shit around here. Do you really think you're related to them? You could be _so_ rich."

"I don't-- I don't know," Derek said, feeling overwhelmed.

Stiles could tell that Derek was uncomfortable, and was quick to intervene. "Easy, guys," he said. "Let's back off a bit, okay?"

Scott immediately looked contrite, and Derek forced a smile to his face. "It's okay. Just-- I'm a demon. What could I even say to them? They wouldn't exist if I hadn't sold my soul a century and a half ago?"

"You wouldn't have to say anything to them if you didn't want to," Stiles said quietly. "But maybe it would do you some good, to see for yourself that your sacrifice wasn't for nothing?"

"Maybe," Derek conceded. He thought for a moment, then suggested, "Maybe we could track down your family."

Stiles smiled. "Maybe," he agreed, "but that will take some time. Yours is right here."

Derek nodded. "I don't want to do anything just yet, though," he confessed.

"You don't have to," Stiles promised. "You've got plenty of time."

* * *

It took Derek a couple of weeks to come to terms with the fact that his family, or at least their descendents, were so close by. When he finally asked Stiles to come with him to meet them, it was the least Stiles could do to say yes. Still, Derek wasn't sure about actually approaching them; he thought it might be enough to see them and know that he'd played a part in ensuring their existence.

So Stiles and Derek walked into the restaurant the Hales held in town, hand-in-hand, and took a seat near the door. "How do we know if any of them are working today?" Stiles asked, turning around to peer at the staff milling about. "Do you see any family resemblance?"

Derek glanced around nervously. "I don't kn--" He sucked in a breath as he caught sight of one of the waitresses coming out of the kitchen, a tray balanced on each arm. "Shit. That-- She looks like Laura."

"Laura?" Stiles asked, reaching across the table to cover Derek's hand with his own. "Your sister?"

"She was-- We were getting supplies when Kate attacked. It was just me and her for several weeks, until I made the deal." Derek couldn't take his eyes off of her. "I always wondered..."

"Well, obviously she did," Stiles said, grinning. "Do you want to go talk to her?"

Derek shook his head frantically, but the girl was already headed their way. "Hi, sorry about the wait," she greeted. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Umm, two cokes please," Stiles answered, smiling. "Thank you."

"Of course. I'll be back with your drinks and will take your orders then," she said with a bright smile before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"She even sounds like Laura," Derek murmured, glancing back at Stiles.

"We can leave if you're not comfortable," Stiles said, squeezing Derek's hand.

"No, I just-- I never thought I'd see anyone from my family again."

Stiles smiled softly. "You should talk to her," he encouraged.

Derek's eyes widened. "I don't--"

"Here's your drinks, boys," the waitress-- whose nametag, thankfully, read "Emma" and not "Laura"; Derek might have bolted if it had-- "Decided what you want to eat yet?"

"Actually, I was wondering if we could talk to you," Stiles said, making a point of peering at the girl's nametag. "Emma, you're a Hale, right?"

"Yes, I am-- you boys are the ones who moved in about a year ago, right?" she asked, seemingly unperturbed by the random question. 

"That's right!" Stiles smiled. "We found out recently that my friend here is related to you guys."

Emma looked at Derek questioningly. Derek considered glaring at Stiles, but settled for offering Emma an uncertain smile. "I'm not from around here, obviously, but I got curious and had a DNA test done," he improvised. "Led me here."

"It turns out that way back when, his great-great-whatever grandfather left town with a girl he'd gotten pregnant. Fastforward to now, and here we are," Stiles elaborated. "When he heard that there were Hales in town, Derek got curious and wanted to know if they were _the_ Hales. Turns out you are."

"Great great-- " Emma hummed thoughtfully before snapping her fingers. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about Derek Hale? He left town about ten years after he helped his family build their inn during the Gold Rush. Just up and vanished one day."

Derek forced himself to nod and smile. "The very same," he confirmed.

"Hey, you're even named after the guy!" Stiles laughed, feeling uneasy. He hadn't expected the latest Hales to have that good a memory. "That's so cool."

Emma's smile widened. "Well, y'all are welcome to come on by our place anytime," she offered. "It's not an inn anymore, but the Hale house has stood through everything California could throw at it."

Stiles glanced at Derek, who didn't seem to be able to say any more, before turning back to Emma. "Thank you," he said. "That's really kind of you."

Emma beamed, then asked for their orders-- Derek just asked for a burger and fries, Stiles got the Rueben. When she was gone, Derek buried his face in his hands. "The house is still standing. Shit, I don't know if I can go there, Stiles."

"Hey, no, you don't have to," Stiles said, once again reaching out to Derek. "I only thanked her to be polite. There's absolutely nothing to make you go there if you don't want to. As far as they're concerned, you don't even have a personal connection to the place."

"I know, I know," Derek said, frustrated. "But I want to-- because I might not be... one of them, but they're my family."

"Then I'll go with you," Stiles said readily. "If that would help."

Derek smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

They visited the Hale house later that day, and although they didn't stay for very long, Stiles could tell that Derek was deeply impacted by being there. He was all smiles when the Hales were looking at him, but when they had their backs turned, gesturing to this original feature or explaining that old family story, more often than not about Derek himself, Stiles saw his face fall. He didn't look sad, exactly, just... tired.

Still, Stiles wasn't surprised when Derek was anything but ready for sleep when they went to bed that night. He'd been restless all night, and even Stiles pressing himself into his arms and kissing his neck didn't seem to calm him any. Stiles pulled away with a sigh and gave Derek a soft smile. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Derek sighed, wrapping his arms around Stiles. "I remember building that house; I remember Dad bleeding all over the kitchen floor when I accidentally hit him in the head with a board. I remember how proud I felt when it was all done, how Mom made three pies for all of us that day. I remember every story they told before my deal came due. I don't-- I don't feel like I deserve this. I'm a demon, for crying out loud. These people wouldn't even exist if I hadn't sold my soul for my family."

"But that's a good thing, surely," Stiles said. "You did something utterly selfless, and made sure that your family had a brilliant future ahead of it."

"I'm a _demon_ ," Derek repeated. "I've tortured and killed for _fun_ , Stiles. I don't deserve to know this family."

Stiles winced. "Derek, we've both done truly awful things," he said. "And at some point we will have to find a way to make amends for that. But that doesn't mean that we don't deserve to be happy. Do you still want to kill people for fun?"

Derek shook his head. "No. No, I don't."

"And do you love the pack?"

Derek nodded.

Stiles kissed him. "Then of course you deserve this," he said. "Everything that you've become, everything that you've done, has all been born from a decision you made out of love for your family."

Derek sighed, but kissed Stiles back. "Thank you. I don't know that I believe that, but thank you."

"I didn't think it was possible," Stiles said, holding Derek's gaze, "but I love you. If demons are capable of love, we have to be capable of redemption."

Derek swallowed, eyes stinging. "I think I love you, too. I don't-- I've never felt this, even when I was human."

”Then let yourself have this," Stiles said, pressing himself against Derek. "All of it. Just close your eyes, and enjoy the ride."

Derek couldn't help but snort. "Had to slip that innuendo in there, didn't you?" he teased. 

Stiles shrugged. "You know me."

Derek chuckled. "Yes, I do."

* * *

Derek gradually got to know his family, but a few weeks later, he got Lydia to help him research Stiles's family. It took them another few weeks to find anything substantial, but eventually Derek had a name and a rough outline of what had happened since Stiles went under.

He presented Stiles with a packet of what he and Lydia had found after dinner one night, when it was just the two of them. "Read that," he instructed.

"What is this?" Stiles asked, opening the packet and peering inside. "Something about Ireland?"

"Just read it," Derek urged. 

Stiles did as he was bid, his eyes widening with every line he read. "You found my family," he breathed. "Someone married a Polish guy at some point, that was definitely not my surname. But they're still in Ireland. I can't believe it."

Derek smiled. "I figured you deserved to see your family, too."

Stiles didn't hesitate to pull Derek into a fierce hug. "Thank you," he said. "You're gonna come with me, right? You'd love Ireland."

"No, I thought I'd do all this work and then make you go by yourself," he said dryly, then grinned. "Of course I'm gonna come with you."

Stiles laughed. "I kinda love you, y'know."

Derek chuckled. "I kinda love you, too."


End file.
